Gone Baby Gone
by morelikeaghost
Summary: Emma and Killian share an emotional moment following the birth of Mary Margaret and David's baby. Unfortunately, their happiness is short-living thanks to an unexpected visit by the Wicked Witch. Originally intended to be multi-chapter, but I'm not feeling it so much now, so looks like you'll have to come up with an ending on your own. :o)


PART ONE – GONE BABY GONE

When Emma arrived back at her parents' loft, exhausted but utterly happy, she was completely unsurprised to find Killian Jones lounging against the front door, a large bouquet of flowers in his good hand. She noted that he wasn't wearing the hook again today – he'd been leaving it behind more and more often when he stopped by for a social call. Killian looked up when he heard her approach, devilish grin already in place, although as she drew closer Emma could see that his eyes were careful. He alone knew about the myriad of complicated emotions she had felt over Mary Margaret's pregnancy. He searched her face, sensitive as always to her mood, looking to follow her lead.

Emma smiled broadly and literally danced the last few steps to the door. "It's a boy!" she squealed, her happiness so effervescent that when she reached him she gave in to her first instinct and threw her arms around him. Pleasantly surprised, Killian returned her embrace. Emma felt his breath in her hair, against her ear, and was suddenly overwhelmed by the sheer heft of the sexual energy between them. She pulled away, painfully aware of everywhere their bodies had touched. God, she hoped she wasn't blushing. When she hazarded a look at him, Killian's grin nearly split his face.

"A boy!" he repeated, jovially, handing her the bouquet. "Your parents must be right chuffed." He leaned his fake hand against the door frame, invading her personal space just a little as she unlocked the deadbolt.

"I'm not sure what that means," she said, amused as always by his perplexing British expressions. "But if it means 'thrilled beyond words,' that would be about right." Emma pushed the door open, dropping her jacket on the back of a chair before heading into the kitchen to find a vase. "These are beautiful, thank you."

"How about a special toast to commemorate this happy event?" Killian suggested. He followed her into the kitchen and produced an ancient looking bottle from the seemingly endless supply of pockets inside his overcoat. "An Enchanted Forest dark rum of most excellent vintage," he said, holding the bottle up for her inspection, looking for all the world as though he belonged on the label of the bottle rather than in her mother's 21st century kitchen.

Emma placed the flowers and vase on the counter, then retrieved a couple of lowball glasses from the cabinet next to the sink. She was fairly certain that Mary Margaret's cocktail glass collection had seen more use over the past two months that it had seen in the previous 28 years. It seemed that the majority of her interactions with Killian were either prefaced with or followed by shots of rum. He poured them both a healthy dose and pushed one of the glasses towards her. Emma accepted it with a smile, then walked around the breakfast bar and stood beside him.

"To my new brother, Leo," she said slowly, trying out the words. Deciding that she liked the way they sounded, Emma raised her glass and clinked it against his.

"To Leo," Killian repeated, "cheers." They both took a swig. Killian set his glass on the counter and regarded her keenly. "If I had to hazard a guess, I'd say you're not at all upset about the fact that your family has just grown by a factor of one." Emma leaned an elbow on the counter and considered this, staring into her glass for a long moment.

"I stayed in the waiting room while Mary Margaret was in labor," she said finally, still looking down, surprised by the emotion in her own voice. "But after Leo was born, David came to get me. He just _burst _through the door and swept me right up into his arms. I could literally feel his happiness, so strong it was like it was my own." She paused for a moment, then lifted her gaze to meet Killian's. "And then I realized, it _was_ my own. He was happy, and sharing it with him, it made me happy."

"I think what you're feeling is this little thing called love," Killian replied. He looked at her pointedly. "When you love someone, you feel what they're feeling. Your father's happiness was your happiness because of the love that you share." Their gazes locked and held, silence stretching out between them, and Emma knew that he wasn't just referring to her and David. He was also talking about himself. He was here, after all, celebrating with her, sharing in her joy, feeling her happiness and making it his own – because he loved her.

Emma was no fool, and she was well aware of how Killian felt about her. He never outright commented on it, but his feelings were only too apparent in his actions. He was always there for her, in whatever way she needed him, whether it was to fight beside her or just be there when she needed some support. Since their arrival back in Storybrooke, he'd helped her keep Henry safe, steadfastly maintaining her increasingly shoddy façade that this was all just part of a case, even though she knew he disapproved of her lying to Henry. Even when he didn't necessarily agree with her, he respected her enough to follow her lead. Emma was woefully ill-equipped for dealing with someone like him. She certainly wasn't used to anyone putting her needs first, and she was frankly baffled by his seemingly endless patience. For all that he made his feelings obvious, he had never been pushy. He understood that after everything she'd been through, she needed space, and he seemed content to wait until she was capable of coming to him on her own terms.

Yes, Emma knew exactly how Killian felt about her – it was her own feelings that refused to be sorted out. For one, when had she started thinking of him as Killian, anyway? The transition had occurred so organically that she hadn't even realized it until now. Somewhere along the way, as he had revealed more and more layers of his deepest self to her, she had come to trust him implicitly, even depend on him. With all of her emotional hang-ups, that was a huge step for her and she knew it was significant, but she'd been using this conflict with the Wicked Witch as an excuse _not_ to examine this thing between herself and Killian too closely. When Mary Margaret had pressed her about their relationship, she'd dismissed him as a "good friend," but even as she said the words she knew in her heart that he was much more than that, and she was pretty sure her mother knew it, too.

In the rare moments when she allowed herself to think about him in _that_ way, always she came up with at least a dozen reasons why it was best to keep Killian at arm's length. For one, her potential suitors had a tendency to end up dead. Two years later, she still felt guilty about what had happened to Graham, and as for Neal, that pain was just a bit too close for her to even begin to try and process. And then there was Henry. Sure, Henry really seemed to like Killian, and her heart melted every time she witnessed the easy camaraderie that had developed between the two of them. Still, she'd promised Henry that they would be returning to their normal lives back in New York soon, although she'd deliberately kept her definitions of both "normal" and "soon" decidedly vague. How in the world could Killian Jones – _Captain Fucking Hook_, for crying out loud – ever factor into the life she'd built for herself and Henry back in New York?

_What if we didn't go back to New York?_ She froze at the errant thought, a possibility she hadn't seriously considered before that moment. _What if I told Henry the truth?_ Emma knew that if she did, Henry would choose to stay with his family – _their_ family. If they defeated the Witch, if they stayed in Storybrooke…who knew what could happen? Emma lifted her glass to her lips and downed the rest of its contents in one huge gulp. That terrible night in New York when she'd first gotten her memories back, she'd been convinced that she wasn't meant to have it all. But now, looking at Killian, she wasn't so sure.

Across the counter, Killian returned her stare unblinkingly. Emma was aware that the silence between them had morphed from a comfortable one into one wrought with tension, but she didn't care. The events of the previous twenty-four hours, culminating in Leo's birth, had laid her bare. She was so tired after all these weeks of playing Nancy Drew, worrying about Henry, and fearing how her parents' new baby might change the dynamic in their family. All of her protective walls had been reduced to a pile of rubble at her feet, and she just didn't have the energy to try and reconstruct them right now. What's more, she didn't think she wanted to.

"You know," she said finally, thoughtfully. "I can't stop thinking about something David said to me when we got back from Neverland. He told me that my life was always going to be full of challenges, but that I should look for the happy moments in between. That those moments were what made it all worth it."

"Wise man, your father," Killian replied. His tone suggested that he had guessed where her thoughts had led during her long silence. Still, he made no attempt to touch her or even move closer. He was as determined as ever to give her the one thing she'd rarely ever had – a choice.

Emma felt buzzed, but she didn't think it was from the rum she had drunk. She set her glass down on the counter. "Killian, I –" she began, breaking off abruptly when she realized what she'd said. His expression indicated that he was as shocked as she was – it was the first time she'd used his given name when they were alone. She forced herself to continue, swallowing around her nervousness. "I just wanted to say…_thank you_. Again. For finding me, for not giving up on me, for bringing me back here. If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have been here today – and I am so, so grateful that I was. You've done so much for me, Henry – my whole family – and I know that I've given you so little in return."

Killian looked like he was about to interrupt. Determined to press on, Emma took a step closer and put a hand on his chest to silence him. "Please," she said doggedly. "Don't deny it – I'm just trying to say that I'm sorry for being...the way that I am."

Killian couldn't hold back any longer. He covered her hand that still lingered on his chest with his own, holding it against his heart. "Emma, love, when are you going to open your eyes?" he asked, shaking his head. "How can you think you've given me nothing when you've given me everything? All the best parts of myself that I thought were gone forever were returned to me because of you. When I first met you, I saw the pain you carried, how behind your brave face it was still tearing you apart, and I saw – myself. It was the pain I lived with every day knowing that I'd lost everyone I'd ever loved. But as I got to know you, I began to see that, unlike me, you chose to keep fighting, to hold onto the one thing that will always carry us through, if only we let it – hope." He squeezed her hand. "_You_ give me hope, Emma. Just by being you, by showing me that it is possible to move forward, to find love again, and for that I am forever in your debt. So don't ever be sorry for being the way that you are, because I wouldn't have you any other way."

Emma was both shocked and moved by his speech. Killian's eyes darted back and forth between hers, hopeful. This was it, she knew. This was their moment. If she chose to live in it, there would be no turning back for either one of them. She already knew there was no way she could push him out of once she let him in, and she knew that he would hold onto her just as fiercely. With a bravery she hadn't known she possessed, Emma lifted her free hand to his face, her fingers caressing a line along his jaw. He sucked in a shuddering breath, his eyes drifting shut. Slowly, Emma drew his mouth down to hers, the first touch of their lips feather-light.

Emma was thoroughly prepared for a repeat of the sort of spontaneous combustion that had occurred when she'd kissed him in Neverland. That time she'd surprised him, but this time Killian quickly took control of the kiss, gently insistent, his tongue sliding against hers with just a hint of desperation. He backed her against the counter, his mouth never leaving hers, and Emma felt herself getting pulled under by the strength of his longing, her sense of time and space collapsing in on itself entirely. The outer world simply fell away until there was nothing but his lips on hers and his body quivering beneath her exploring fingertips. Which is why she couldn't be sure how much time had passed when suddenly she heard the door to the loft creak open and David call out, "Emma? Are you – oh!"

Emma and Killian sprang apart, spinning around in unison to see David and Henry standing just inside the doorway, their open mouths forming identical surprised "ohs." The similarity in their expressions might have made Emma smile under different circumstances, but right now the only thing she could think about was the crimson blush creeping up her neck. She resisted the urge to reach for something to fan herself with. Beside her, Killian shifted uncomfortably, looking far more like a sixteen-year-old boy whose girlfriend's father had just caught him copping a feel than a three-hundred-year-old, devil-may-care pirate. The four of them stared at one another, frozen in place by their own embarrassment, for what felt to Emma like an eternity.

David, always the prince, recovered first. "Uh, I just came to pick up some of Mary Margaret's things and then I was going to drop Henry off with you at Granny's," he said, reasonably. "But then we saw your car out front and thought maybe you were here. The door was unlocked, so we just came on in, and –" He trailed off, turning red, as though he was only now beginning to comprehend the scene he'd just interrupted. "I…um," he tried again, looking from Emma to Killian to Henry, clearly hoping that one of them would step up and rescue them all from the awkwardness of the situation. Finally, Killian cleared his throat, and walked towards David, clapping him soundly on the shoulder.

"Congratulations mate!" he said, still disconcerted but completely sincere. "I hear you are a father!" He almost added, "Again," but stopped himself, remembering at the last second that Henry, still oblivious to the truth, was standing right there. David's face relaxed instantly at the mention of his new son. He smiled at Killian gratefully.

"Yes! We named him Leo, after Sn-, Mary Margaret's father," David replied, glancing at Henry, who was still staring from his mother to Killian, then back again. Thankfully he seemed not to have noticed David's slip.

"Henry," Emma said, finding her voice, ignoring both her father and Killian. "Do you still want to go to Granny's? Why don't you go wait outside in the car? I'll be there in a second."

To her surprise, Henry smirked at her. "Actually, I'm not all that hungry. Why don't you and Killian go to Granny's and I'll stay here and help David. You two seem as though you'd like a little bit more time alone," he said, wickedly. Emma leveled him with a warning look.

"Actually," Killian said, reluctantly. "I should probably get back to the Inn. I'm sure David is eager to get back to his wife, and Henry really shouldn't skip dinner." He looked at Emma, trying hard to convey a multitude of words with his eyes alone, and for a moment she forgot that her father and son were in the room.

"Emma," David said, snapping her back to reality. "Why don't you give Killian a ride to the Inn? Henry can help me with this list from Mary Margaret and I'll drop him off at Granny's on my way back to the hospital. The two of you can meet up there." He handed Henry a piece of paper with several lines of writing in Mary Margaret's careful hand. "I think most of this stuff is upstairs in the nursery, Henry, if you want to start looking." Henry took the hint and, with one final sidelong glance at Emma and Killian, obediently ran upstairs.

As soon as Henry was out of earshot, Emma looked at her father and said, "David –" He cut her off immediately.

"What?" he said, picking up her jacket and helping her shrug into it. "I wasn't going to say anything." Emma forced herself to look up at him, a little fearful in spite of herself. Killian and David had butted heads over her in the past, and although Emma was a grown woman and didn't need her father's approval, she _wanted_ him to trust her enough to accept Killian. Smiling down at her, David squeezed her shoulders and winked. To her relief, she saw only love and acceptance in his eyes. "I love you," he whispered, keeping his voice low in case Henry was eavesdropping.

Emma embraced him quickly. "I love you, too," she whispered back, stepping out into the hallway. Killian moved to follow her, but David grabbed hold of his arm.

"Wait just a minute, pirate," David said sternly. Killian stopped dead in his tracks and the two men regarded one another for a long moment. _Here we go_, Emma thought. She held her breath. On the surface, the two men seemed to be the very antithesis of one another. Even when casually dressed in modern-day clothing, David somehow managed to maintain his courtly air. He was a natural born leader, the kind of man others respected instinctively and looked to for guidance. Many a man in his position might have become corrupted by power, but David's inherent goodness kept him squarely on the path of the straight and narrow. Killian, on the other hand, looked every inch the dangerous pirate. He, too, was accustomed to other men following his orders, but as the centuries passed and his quest for revenge began to consume him, his crew came to obey him out of fear rather than loyalty. Abandoned as a child, shattered by grief first over his brother Liam's death and then Milah's, Killian had allowed hopeless despair to lead him down a very dark path. Beneath the surface, however, the two men were more similar than either of them probably cared to admit. They both possessed very strong emotions and the ability to love deeply, and both were fiercely protective of the people they loved. Particularly the woman who now observed them from the doorway, wearing an expression composed of equal parts hope and apprehension.

David glanced at Emma for a split second before training his eyes on Killian. "I love my daughter," he began, still keeping his voice low lest Henry overhear. "More than life itself. When she was born, I wanted to give her the world, starting with a perfect childhood full of happy memories that would help guide her as she became an adult. But that just wasn't meant to be. As it turns out, she grew into a beautiful, strong, amazing woman all by herself, and now all I want is for her to find her own happy ending, whatever that may be." David paused, smiling a little ironically. "I have to admit, a pirate wouldn't have been my first choice for her, but then again it's not really my choice to make…and I know better than anyone that happy endings aren't always what we think they will be." He addressed his next words to Emma. "I know you don't need my permission, but for what it's worth you have my blessing." He let go of Killian's arm and gave him a good-natured shove towards the door. "Now you two kids run along."

Killian hesitated, clearly wishing to say something but struggling to formulate a response. David laughed and pushed him again, harder this time so he stumbled out the door. "I mean it. Get out of here. Just make my daughter happy." With that, David shut the door in their faces. Killian turned to Emma, looking completely bewildered.

"You heard the man," she said, grabbing his hand. "Let's go." He allowed her to lead him out into the night. When they reached her car, Emma stopped, dropping his hand and turning to look at him. Killian whistled, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"Did that just happen?" he asked her, running his good hand through his hair nervously. They both laughed, shy with one another in the aftermath of their kiss. The tension between them was rising again now that they were alone. Killian started to reach for her and then stopped short, his eyes seeking permission. With her eyes, Emma granted it. She loved his secret, sexy smile as he slowly drew her to him. Emma let her lashes flutter shut, her lips parting, expecting to be kissed. Instead, Killian simply leaned his forehead against hers, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tightly. She sighed, relaxing against him, savoring the feel of him surrounding her. In her weaker moments, she'd thought a lot about what his arms would feel like – reality was much better. Killian drew in a shaky breath, pulling back slightly to look at her.

"Swan," he said softly. Emma couldn't help smiling at his use of her last name. Killian smiled back, realizing what he'd said. "Sorry, love. Old habits, you know." He turned serious, the light from the full moon illuminating his face. His eyes were so vulnerable, it made him look years younger, erasing all traces of his usual arrogance. "Emma, I understand that things are crazy right now, and I want you to know I'm not asking you for anything."

Emma stared back at him, just as serious. "I know things are crazy right now," she said slowly. "And that is why I want you to know that I am asking you for everything." She let this sink in, watching as first comprehension and then fierce hope lit his eyes. She felt his hand slide up her back, settling in her hair.

"Those happy moments you were referring to earlier," Killian said. Emma struggled to concentrate as his fingers tugged at her hair. "Are we having one right now?"

"Yes, I think we are," Emma replied, her voice a husky whisper. Killian's fingers stilled as he searched her face, his heart in his eyes, the words _I love you_ forming on the tip of his tongue.

Before he could speak, the moment was broken by a sarcastic voice coming from just over Emma's shoulder. "Well this is touching, just touching, darlings, really," drawled Zelena. For the second time that evening, Emma and Killian sprang apart, Emma whirling around just in time to see the Witch materialize behind her, tendrils of green smoke still clinging to her cloak. "All this true love going around, it's enough to make a girl swoon." Her eyes narrowed, jealousy twisting her lovely features into a mask of ugliness. "Too bad for you I'm hardly a girl and I most certainly do _not_ swoon."

"What do you want, Witch?" Emma demanded. Her posture appeared casual, but Killian saw the way she shifted her weight slightly, standing on the balls of her feet, ready to spring into action if the Witch so much as looked at them wrong. Even in this tense moment, he couldn't help but appreciate her fighting spirit. That was his Swan, the Warrior Princess. The Witch sniffed delicately, raising her hands in a characteristic gesture while looking them both up and down. She winked at him; Killian felt his stomach turn, every cell in his body screaming danger.

"Oh, the same thing I always want," she said conversationally. She leaned towards Emma slightly, moving into the moonlight. The glint in her eye was not entirely sane. "Revenge."

Killian's unease increased exponentially when the pale silvery moonlight momentarily illuminated a long, thin object partially concealed in Zelena's right hand. With catlike agility, the Witch suddenly lunged at Emma, raising the object in her head menacingly. At the same time, Killian sprang into action, throwing himself between the two women, yelling, "Emma, GET DOWN!" He turned towards Emma, thrusting her forcefully out of harm's way. She tumbled awkwardly into the street, her left leg buckling beneath her as she teetered over the curb and hit the pavement hard. Killian's brain only briefly registered a sharp prick in his shoulder as Zelena's weapon made contact. A second later, he staggered, the world threatening to close in around him.

"Killian!" Emma screamed, struggling to stand. A wrenching pain in her left ankle stopped her short and she fell back with a cry. She watched, horrified, as Killian swayed drunkenly, meeting her eyes for a fraction of a second before losing consciousness. He slumped over backwards, straight into Zelena, who deftly caught him, not missing a beat.

"Oh dear," Zelena said, bemused, looking down at the unconscious pirate in her arms. "That was unexpected." She looked at Emma. "Goodbye, my pretty." She smiled widely, terrifyingly. Hefting Killian's weight, she raised her hand. Emma realized what the Witch was about to do and, gritting her teeth against the pain in her ankle, she made a monumental effort to get to her feet. She lurched forward, desperately reaching out for Killian. Instead her fingers encountered nothingness as both he and the Witch disappeared in a cloud of green smoke. Zelena's unmistakable cackle reverberated in the empty street and then, suddenly, everything went eerily quiet. Emma collapsed onto the sidewalk.

"NOOOOOO!" The word felt as though it was being ripped from her very soul. A moment later the door to Mary Margaret's apartment building flew open, revealing David and Henry. They spotted Emma, who lay sobbing on the ground, and immediately ran towards her.

"Mom!" Henry cried out, fear in his voice.

"Emma!" David reached her first, gathering her in his arms and lifting her up off the sidewalk. She gasped in pain when he set her on her feet. He put his arm around her waist, supporting most of her weight as he helped her up to the steps. She sat down heavily, her eyes wide with shock.

"Emma, what happened?" David asked, crouching in front of her, his voice urgent. He put his hands on her shoulders and stared at her intently. "Are you hurt? Where's Killian?" When she failed to respond, he shook her a little. "Emma, please!"

"Mom!" Henry exclaimed, appearing at her side. "Are you all right? You're scaring me!" He turned to David, his eyes very large. "What's wrong with her?" There was a touch of panic in his voice and he sounded close to tears. Henry's fear was the only thing that could've reached Emma in that moment. She sucked in a ragged breath, determined to pull herself together and focus.

"It was the Witch," she said to David, matter-of-factly, ignoring Henry's confused look. "She stabbed Killian with something and he passed out. A-a sleeping curse, maybe. She took him." Her voice broke a little and she swallowed hard. "I think it was me she wanted, but he pushed me out of the way. He saved me." Her last words were hardly more than a whisper. David gave her a tortured look.

"Emma, don't worry," he said. "We'll find him, we'll get him back. I promise you." She nodded. Just then, David's cell phone rang, making all three of them jump. Emma recognized Mary Margaret's ringtone. Her gut twisted with dread.

"Answer it," she said. David pulled the phone from his pocket and held it up to his ear. Before he even said hello, they all heard Mary Margaret wail, her agony clear as day even through the phone: "LEO IS GONE! THE WITCH, SHE TOOK HIM! SHE SAID SHE WAS TAKING HIM BACK TO THE ENCHANTED FOREST! OH MY GOD, DAVID, LEO IS GONE!"

The cell phone clattered to the pavement as David fell back, crying out a strangled denial, his face crumpling. Emma raised a hand to her mouth, choking on a sob. She and David stared at one another helplessly.

"Will somebody please tell me WHAT…in the HELL…is going on?" Emma looked up. Henry was still kneeling next to her, his face pinched and tight, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Grim resolve flooded Emma's mind. Holding her son's gaze, she reached into her coat pocket and pulled out the small vial of memory potion that Regina had prepared for Henry weeks before. This wasn't exactly how she had envisioned Henry getting his memories back, but she had no choice now. They were about to go to war. She handed him the vial.

"Drink this," Emma said. David looked up at the hard edge of steel in her voice, his mouth forming a grim line. Henry took the oddly glowing vial, his eyes widening.

"Drink it," Emma repeated as Henry popped the tiny cork out of the vial. "And then I will tell you everything."

8


End file.
